MEMORIES

Guadalupe (Tetuan) Martinez

“I heard the proverbial “train” sound outside the window, saw debris flying past, felt air being sucked out making my ears pop and heard thudding as things peppered the house. Then a few minutes later — silence, deathly silence.”

By Guadalupe (Tetuan) MartinezSpecial to The Capital-Journal

I was 16 years old that hot, muggy summer night in June. My hair was in curlers. My sister and I were getting ready to attend a teen dance that evening at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church Hall on N.E. Chandler Street, just a few blocks from our Oakland home. All the neighborhood teens looked forward to those dances, which always featured a live local band.

Daddy was bartending at the Lucky 5 restaurant owned by our grandparents, just down the street on N.E. Seward Avenue. Mama was cleaning offices at her part-time job downtown. My brothers were outside playing with friends.

I was supposed to be taking care of my four younger brothers until Mama got home, and then I was going to dance the night away. An ordinary summer night just like any other.

Suddenly came the blast of the tornado siren, slicing through the dusk of that June 8 night. My brothers came racing in. My mother’s voice came to mind immediately: “Grab the transistor radio, a flashlight, candles and matches, and a jug of water.” My sister and brothers hustled down the basement stairs carrying the supplies, while I locked the front door.

I also took a few seconds to grab a piece of blessed palm (as Catholics, we always had palms) and made the sign of the cross at all four corners of our house just as I had always seen my mother do during severe weather. Then I, too, raced down to the basement.

A couple of my younger brothers were crying, begging for mom and dad. My sister did her best to reassure them, while I was trying to listen to the reports coming from the radio. I grew anxious and scared as I heard the weatherman warning people to get to safety immediately.

The tornado was coming off Burnett’s Mound and heading toward Washburn University. I began trembling when I heard it was headed to the downtown area after hitting Washburn. Oh, no! Mama was in one of those buildings!

Fighting tears and my growing fears, I tried to keep it together for the younger ones’ sake. Then I heard the news that made my stomach drop. The tornado was bouncing toward Oakland. My Oakland! The little neighborhood where my family and friends lived.

Were we going to survive? Would I see my mom and dad again? All this was going through my mind until I looked out the little basement window and saw that everything had turned a sickly yellow. What followed haunts me to this day.

I heard the proverbial “train” sound outside the window, saw debris flying past, felt air being sucked out making my ears pop and heard thudding as things peppered the house. Then a few minutes later — silence, deathly silence. The kids had stopped crying, the wind had stopped howling and the air had cleared.

We were startled into action when we heard the sound of someone pounding on the front door. We ran up the stairs and saw it was our daddy. I was no longer 16 years old — I was a little girl again running into my daddy’s arms for comfort and safety.

I don’t remember how long it was until Mama came home. She told us she had been frantically trying to get home because, of course, the bus she would have used to return home wasn’t running. All she remembered was a stranger was picking up people and squeezing them into the car, trying to give people a ride home or at least close enough to walk into their neighborhoods.

I remember seeing Mama’s pale face with tears streaming down, and feeling her trembling hand as she touched all of us to make sure we were all right. Daddy poured her a shot. That was the first time I had ever seen her imbibe. We were all safe, and the house was relatively unscathed. A few blocks over, the same couldn’t be said.

Even though it was a devastating tornado, I believe God was protecting us; it could have been much worse in terms of life lost. You see, the dance hall was completely demolished. Nothing remained except the foundation slab. Had the tornado occurred just an hour later, there would have been at least 75 kids, if not more, in and around that hall. Since there was no basement, the kids might have sought shelter within the building.

I shudder to think about what could have happened if it had been one hour later.